


Pleasurable Delights

by vix_spes



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 14:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond returns unscathed from a mission to find a more than pleasurable delight awaiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pleasurable Delights

**Author's Note:**

> One of my first forays into this fandom. Written for [this photo](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/vix_spes/16939984/183963/183963_600.jpg) … because who could resist it? The world needs more fic of pretty boys/men in stockings and suspenders! This was supposed to be short, SHORT!, but apparently I’m incapable of that! Huge thanks to thesmallhobbit for beta-ing

It had been one of those rare missions, or at least a rare mission for James Bond. One of the ones where the mission objective was completed, it didn’t all go to shit, he didn’t get injured and he didn’t get chewed out by M upon his return. He had even managed to bring back 90% of the equipment that Q-branch had sent him out with, which was much better than normal. Heading down to Q-branch and avoiding medical on the way because he could and not just because he wanted to, he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed when he saw no sign of Q stood in his usual spot and the lights in his office were off. He had to settle instead for returning his equipment to R, who was more than happy to tell him that Q had left a couple of hours ago when 008’s mission had finished successfully. Bond couldn’t help but wonder where Q had gone to; whether he had returned to his own flat or if he had gone to Bond’s. Bond couldn’t help but hope that it was the latter.

Not too long ago, that would have terrified him. It did still scare him slightly but that fear was no longer terrifying. He had officially been in a relationship with the Quartermaster for six months now and prior to that had been another six months of a rather strange mixture of intermittent dates, quasi-domesticity and, quite frankly, amazing sex. It had taken Bond a long time to even get to that stage. He had had liaisons with men before, mostly on missions when they had been marks, but had never been in a relationship with one. He hadn’t been in a relationship full stop since he had lost Vesper. He hadn’t wanted to be in relationship. He was fairly certain that being a double-0 agent and having relationships didn’t mesh well.

In all of his years of service at MI6, he had never once considered a relationship with another member of staff. Oh, he was more than happy to flirt and flirt he did, but relationships were a no-no. Moneypenny had probably come the closest out of everyone, but that was never going to turn into anything; both of them were too alpha for it to work. Besides, she’d bloody shot him!

Q was an entirely different prospect. When he had first met the younger man, Bond’s initial thought had been that he was too young, too fragile to be Quartermaster. There was no doubting that he had intelligence and sass in spades, that he had a good head on his shoulders, but whether he was truly capable of the role of Quartermaster? Bond wasn’t convinced, but only time would tell. Oh how pleasantly surprised he had been. Q was everything Bond already knew and so much more. Despite men not usually being Bond’s preference, he had acknowledged Q’s attractiveness from the beginning and had flirted with him from the outset. Bond had been more than happy to leave it as flirtation and banter, a very similar relationship to the one he had with Moneypenny, until he saw Q on the firing range testing the new weapons that he had designed. Watching Q hit the bullseye every single time with a variety of firearms, occasionally adjusting his stance for the recoil, had left Bond’s cock straining against his trousers. He had been unable to resist asking Q out for dinner after that.

That first dinner had been exactly that. Dinner, filled with interesting conversation and a lot of laughter. It had simply been a dinner where there had been no agenda other than pure enjoyment. On missions, dinner was normally preface to either seducing or killing a mark and then, when he was back in London, if he ate out, he generally ate out alone unless Alec was back in town; so it was a pleasure to dine out and with such a charming companion. It didn’t take long for dinner and drinks to stop being just dinner and drinks and start including inordinate amounts of sex. Rumours and speculation about Q were rife. Not only was he fairly unknown, but he was young and attractive and more than one member of MI6 had attempted to flirt and ask him out. When all of them had been rejected, or received no response at all, mostly due to Q being preoccupied, the rumours had started that Q was a virgin. Bond had actually laughed out loud when he had heard that one. The concept of Q being a virgin was completely ridiculous and Bond could testify to that.

Even though sex had become simply another weapon that he could use, Bond still enjoyed it. He really enjoyed sex and he had a high sex drive; he wasn’t ashamed of that. It had been more than a pleasurable discovery to find that, when he was removed from his natural habitat, Q was not only _not_ a virgin, but he also had as high a sex drive as Bond. He was also very open to new things, whether in the bedroom or out of it. There were very few places within MI6 that they hadn’t had sex. Q’s desk was a favourite, as was the wall of Bond’s favoured lane in the firing range. There had been the ultimate cliché of inside Bond’s Aston Martin and, although they had considered Mallory’s desk, Moneypenny’s had been easier to access. Q had had no qualms in letting Bond tie him up and they had had some pleasant experiments with spanking; Bond’s hand turning Q’s pale skin a delicious rosy-pink shade. One of Q’s favourite proclivities, and one that Bond definitely shared, was that he liked to wear women’s lingerie. There were things that he wouldn’t wear, primarily brassieres, and Bond had never been able to get him in a corset yet (he couldn’t help but imagine Q’s waist cinched in so that he could span it with his hands) but he didn’t rule it out for the future.

Bond had been so lost in the thoughts of just how delightful Q was in bed that he had failed to realise that he had found his way back to his flat. As he took care of the security measures on the door and opened it, Bond listened carefully to see if he could hear any signs that Q had ended up at his flat. Not hearing anything, he couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that welled up. He had no idea of how long Q had been working; it could have been just a normal working day or, depending on how the missions had been going, he could have been there for several days and Bond was kicking himself for not asking R. It was for that very reason that he hadn’t wanted to phone Q and disturb him. The flat was quiet and dark when Bond finally stepped inside; he headed straight for the liquor cabinet and poured himself a healthy measure of Scotch. He didn’t bother to turn on any lights; the large windows let in enough light for him to see from the street lamps outside. As he turned his back to the windows, he came to the realisation that he wasn’t as alone in the flat as he had assumed.

Sprawled across the cream leather sofa that Bond’s interior designer had chosen was Q, looking for all the world like a courtesan. Seeing the clothes Q chose to wear to work, the cardigans, slim tie and trouser combinations that looked like he had been digging through his local charity shops, but were actually designer, nobody would have thought that he was capable of wearing something like this. Thankfully, James knew better and, to the satisfaction of his possessive nature, he was the only person who knew that. Although, on more than one occasion, he had toyed with the idea of taking photos of Q when he was all trussed up like this and, looking at the sight waiting for him, he once again toyed with the idea.

Bond didn’t think that he’d seen these particular items before which meant that Q had bought them intending that Bond be the only one to see him in them. This particular set of black suspender belt and matching stockings contrasted beautifully with Q’s pale skin tone. Even better, he was wearing nothing but those two items of clothing. Could they even be called items of clothing? They were more like scraps considering that they revealed far more than they covered. The straps of the suspender belt clung to the curves of that delectable arse and, due to the way that Q was sprawled, there was a tantalising peek of his balls. How could Bond resist that? The answer was that he couldn’t. He had thought that, once they’d been together for a while, this insatiable hunger and desire for Q would die down somewhat, but it still showed no sign of abating.

Setting his drink down on the coffee-table with a soft clink, Bond walked over to the sofa and dropped down to his knees next to it. Reaching out a hand, he slowly traced along one of the suspenders, smiling as the action meant that Q started to stir. He might not be an active field agent but, like the rest of them, the Quartermaster had developed the ability to wake at the smallest thing although the fact that he hadn’t woken when Bond entered the flat implied that he had been working more than he should.

“James?”

Bond didn’t bother to respond verbally. Instead he traced the suspender again but this time with his tongue before planting a line of kisses along Q’s spine. As he reached Q’s shoulder, he took Q’s chin in his fingers, turning his head so that he could kiss his lips. It wasn’t an overly passionate kiss, instead it was almost chaste, but it was a reassurance that Bond was home and unhurt. The position obviously wasn’t ideal so, wanting to move into a more comfortable position and to also move things along a bit faster, Q slid off the sofa so that he was straddling Bond’s lap. This time when their lips met it was completely different. There was very little finesse to it. It was hard and fierce, pure passion, Bond’s hands sliding unerringly into their favourite position in Q’s hair to keep him in place. They continued trading kisses, only separating enough to gain much-needed air, before Bond pulled back, moving down to nip at the skin of Q’s inner thighs as the first of his slickened fingers traced Q’s hole before slipping inside. Bond watched in delight as the tight ring of muscle easily and greedily swallowed in first one and then two of his fingers. Not only had Q trussed himself up in the suspender belt and stockings but he had fingered himself open so that he would be ready for when Bond returned.

“Somebody was eager.”

“Exactly. Eager. So that means stop wasting time talking and fuck me.”

Bond wasn’t going to argue with that. He obviously wasn’t moving fast enough though as Q took the initiative himself, reaching around Bond to fumble in the drawer of the coffee table for a condom. After the second time that they had been so eager that they didn’t make it to the bedroom only to have to stop and relocate, they had taken to stashing condoms and lubricant in a variety of spots around the flat (and indeed MI6) for when they inevitably wanted to have sex somewhere other than the bedroom. Long, elegant fingers scrabbled at the placket of Bond’s trousers, practically ripping them and the boxers underneath open before rolling the condom onto his cock, and cursorily slicking him with lubricant, Bond’s hands being otherwise engaged with Q’s arse.  He pulled Q forward, his body sliding across the leather of the sofa with a little friction, so that his arse was at the very edge of the seat cushion even as he simultaneously shoved his trousers and boxers down.

Bond didn’t waste any time sliding into Q, grunting slightly as he felt the suspenders and stockings pressed against his thighs. Bond was determined to make this last as long as possible, to reacquaint himself with Q, but Q was already pushing back against him insistently, trying to make him move. And who was he to deny his lover? Slowly he started to move, rotating his hips until he found the right angle and then speeding up his movements until he was slamming into Q. There wasn’t a single part of Q’s torso that escaped Bond’s attention; his chest, nipples, ribs, abs were all dotted with kisses, licks and teasing nips, all of it done excruciatingly slowly, a counterpoint as Bond continued to drive into the slim form. A cacophony of noises escaped from Q’s mouth, all of them clearly heard above the sounds of slightly sticky, sweaty flesh on the sofa. Q had been a particularly vocal lover from the outset and Bond loved it, despite the fact that it had nearly got them into trouble at headquarters on more than one occasion. Q’s nails scraped through Bond’s short blond hair and raked down his back, encouraging him to move faster, deeper, harder.

Considering how long they had been apart this time, it was unsurprising that neither of them was going to last long. To be honest, neither of them wanted to. Q obviously realised that Bond was close and so the younger man slipped his hand in between them, wrapping it around his cock. It only took a few strokes before Q was spilling himself over his stomach and his hand, practically wailing as he did so. Q's orgasm caused him to clench convulsively around Bond's cock, milking Bond’s release from him and causing him to slump over Q's body, sucking a vivid bruise high up on Q’s neck where his bloody cardigans wouldn’t cover and reaffirming his claim. Slowly, he pulled out of Q with a slick sound, unable to resist brushing a thumb across Q’s reddened hole as he carefully removed the condom, tying it off and throwing it unerringly in the direction of the bin. He pressed a kiss to Q’s slightly swollen lips, smiling into it as slim arms wrapped around his neck to keep him there.

“If you’re not careful I’m going to expect a welcome home like that at the end of each mission.” Bond shifted Q’s weight, wrapping the long legs more firmly around his waist so that he could raise them both off the floor and move them into the bedroom.

“Well, some of my minions might appreciate the view. Having had to listen to more of you double-0’s sex lives than I would like to, I know for a fact that more than a few of them would be interested in watching.” There was a sly smile on Q’s face that said he knew exactly the result that his words were going to get.

“On second thoughts, don’t even think about it. Nobody gets to see this except for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to leave a comment at LJ, please feel free to do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/144542.html)


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